dred, and went up one day to "pass papers"--which we did after
taking another look at the attic, to make certain that it was not just a
dream, after all. I remember the transaction quite clearly, for it
rained that day, world without end, and Elizabeth and I, caught in a
sudden shower, made for a great tree and had shelter under it while the
elements raged about us. How young we must have been to make it all seem
so novel and delightful! I recall that we discussed our attic and what
we would do with the fireplace room, as we stood there getting wet to
the skin. We had found accommodations at a neighbor's, and we decided to
remain a few days and make some plans. We were so engrossed that we
hardly knew when the rain was over.

[Illustration]

It was about sunset when I walked up alone for a casual look at our new
possession. It was still and deserted up there, and as the light faded
into dusk, the ancient overgrown place certainly had an air about it
that was not quite canny. I decided that I would not remain any longer,
and was about to go when I noticed an old, white-haired man standing a
few feet away. I had heard no step, and his pale, grave face was not
especially reassuring. I began to feel goose-flesh.

"G-good evening," I said.

He nodded and advanced a step. I noticed that he limped, and I had been
told that my predecessor who had passed away the year before at
eighty-five had walked in that way.

"Don't pay too much for this place," he said, in a hollow, solemn voice.
"Don't pay too much. It was 'prised in the settlement at nine hundred,
and it tain't wuth any more."

"I--I've already bought it," I said, weakly.

"Yeh didn't pay more 'n nine hundred, did yeh?" he questioned,
anxiously.

"No, I didn't pay more than that."

"I'm glad," he said, "for it wasn't 'prised any more. I like to see
things in this world done fair. When yeh git moved I'll come to see yeh
again. Good night."

He limped through the long grass and disappeared over the hill. On the
way down I stopped at the Westbury home and reported my visitor. Mrs.
Westbury, a handsome, spirited woman, laughed.

"That was old Nat, who lives just back of you. He's a good old body, but
queer."

"I'm glad he's a body," I said. "I wasn t sure."

III

_Our debt to William C. Westbury_

Before going deeper into this history I think I ought definitely to
introduce William C. Westbury, who sold us the place. How few and
lagging would have been